


Alderaan is burning

by Veto_power_over_clocks



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Lost Light 25 Spoilers, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veto_power_over_clocks/pseuds/Veto_power_over_clocks
Summary: The growth and development of many species can be linked to their discovery and mastery of fire. It’s obvious, really. Fire means a cooked meal and warmth in winter. Fire means safety.For Cybertronians, fire means molten metal, ready to be turned into new body parts, new tools, new structures. Fire is renewal.For Hot Rod, fire is Nyon.





	Alderaan is burning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Last year, a group of friends decided to put together a free zine to commemorate the end of "Lost Light". The theme was finding peace.
> 
> Of course I wrote about one of my favorite characters for it.
> 
> You can find this fic and other works and art in the [Towards Peace zine](https://twitter.com/soundwave_and/status/1151553775913459713) (it's free!).

The growth and development of many species can be linked to their discovery and mastery of fire. It’s obvious, really. Fire means a cooked meal and warmth in winter. Fire means safety.

For Cybertronians, fire means molten metal, ready to be turned into new body parts, new tools, new structures. Fire is renewal.

For Hot Rod, fire is Nyon.

.

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Despite what some people believe of him, Hot Rod understands many things. For example, he understands getting attached to pieces of media. He understands the appeal of stories promising you a some _where_ or a some _when_ else for you to escape to after a long day or when everything’s going wrong. He understands that some stories speak to a lot of people, not just to those who are broken and unlucky, who only hope to survive the day.

All of that is why he understands that these “Star Wars” movies that Sunstreaker’s telling him about are probably one of those things he _must_ watch if he really wants to understand Earth.

Frankly? He’s unimpressed. They’re _fun_ , sure, but he doesn’t understand why so many people would see Anakin Skywalker and decide he should be a big part of their lives.

“You have to get to Episode IV! Now stop whining,” Sunstreaker says, pointing at the screen where said movie’s about to start playing.

He’s not sure what it is about this clearly old movie that Hot Rod finds charming, but there’s definitely _something_. It might be the special effects, or the fact that he understands someone wanting a more interesting life than farming when there’s an evil empire out there that needs to be brought down. Maybe it’s the fact that he hates Darth Vader’s helmet, so he’s extra invested in the good guys’ triumph. Or maybe it’s just that Leia is a badass who mouths off to her captors and won’t be intimidated, even when terrified.

Then, things go to hell.

It’s a movie, things had to go terribly wrong at some point. He understands that, after they had spent so long talking about the new, terrible weapon that the bad guys had, they were bound to show what said weapon did. He gets it. He just… hadn’t really expected the weapon to be, well… what it was. A world-destroyer.

Leia is offered a choice: reveal the location of the rebel base or see her planet (her _entire planet_ ) get destroyed. Hot Rod feels himself tensing up, his limbs becoming rigid and his jaw clenching, but despite the fact that he knows that this is fiction, that no one will _truly_ die, he can’t bring himself to relax.

 _Save your planet_ , he thinks as he watches her hesitate. _Please, save your home._

He’s dizzy with relief when Leia picks her home, and then dizzy with a variety of unpleasant sensations when Leia’s captors give the order to destroy her planet anyway.

He stands up abruptly, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Sunstreaker pauses the movie. Prowl gives him a scrutinizing look and Hot Rod can tell that he’s filing away this little reaction, but it doesn’t matter; what Hot Rod needs right now is to get out of the room before he ends up purging his tanks.

“Sorry, I forgot something.” He takes a step towards the door.

“Can’t it wait?” Sunstreaker asks, sounding unhappy about the interruption to his movie night.

“No, no, it really can’t. Sorry.” He starts walking towards the door.

“Should we wait for you to return?” Prowl asks, in a tone Hot Rod can’t decipher right now.

“No need to, it’ll take me a while.” Hot Rod grins, tries to shine, tries to look _fine_ as he adds, “Enjoy the movie!” and leaves.

It takes all his willpower to keep himself together until he’s outside the base, away from the risk of security cameras or someone trying to find him. He forces himself to walk, and then drive, until he’s in the middle of nowhere, and it’s only there that he curls into himself in root mode and allows himself to acknowledge the way his spark seems to be shrinking inside its casing, how he feels like he’s about to die.

 _It’s just a movie_ , he tells himself. _No one’s dead_ , he tells himself.

But Leia had been brave, and she’d made the right choice, and Alderaan had burned anyway. No matter how fictional she might be, someone had thought that the story should go that way. Someone had thought that she deserved that. Someone had decided that her planet was an affordable price to pay for the greatness of the story.

He’s aware that his metaphor is running away from him, but he can’t stop.

Alderaan was burning, just like Nyon, and Hot Rod is shaking.

.

.

.

.

Since no one knows how long they’ll be on Earth and there are chances they might end up watching the movie again, Hot Rod decides to prepare himself, because sometimes you have to be practical and fix problems before they come back to ruin your life. It’s a very smart course of action; it’d make Prowl proud!

So yes, he’ll be ready for next time. He’s not getting caught off guard again, nope. He’s fixing this _now_. First, he’s going to look up the movie’s script and read it, because it should be easier with no visuals, and then he’s going to watch the movie.

It takes him a while, but he reads the whole script, although he might have read the scene about Alderaan a bit too quickly. He gets the gist of it, which is the important thing, yes? He’s ready for the movie!

He takes the first moment he has alone to watch it. He knows what’s coming. He’s prepared. He can do it.

As soon as the order for the destruction of Alderaan is given, he has to pause the movie and find something else to do. He can’t do it.

That night, Nyon burns in his nightmares.

.

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Here are some facts about fire: it’s _hot_ and it _burns_. Some things can stop it, and many things can burn.

That’s all you need to know.

Considering that fire is condensed destruction, one has to wonder if there is such a thing as intelligent design when it comes to life forms. If there is, Hot Rod would like to have a word with Primus, maybe two or three, because, seriously? Who could think that flaming out would be a good, useful trait to have?

Yes, sure, it _is_ useful in fights, but it also burns so much fuel that it’s pretty much just another way of killing himself. It also _hurts_. How can _that_ be good?

If there is such a thing as intelligent design, then the universe was using that intelligence to laugh at him. He can laugh at the universe, though. He might be able to flame out, but he doesn’t have to do it.

So he doesn’t. There’s no point to it when a shot will do, and no point in shooting when a punch to the face will get you the same result.

Hot Rod: 1

Universe: 1, unfortunately. It got the point when Hot Rod was forged. It’s up to him not to let it get another one.

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The war ends, somehow. Along the way Hot Rod gets a new frame and a name he actually likes. He gets some respect. He gets a friend. He gets a map and a quest and a ship and a crew, and along the way he forgets the fire inside himself.

He finds out that there are many ways to destroy everything.

You can tell someone to take an unnecessary shot.

You can let yourself get talked into bringing a killing machine on board.

You can allow your friend to take the blame for your mistakes.

You can let Optimus Prime put Megatron in charge of your quest and your ship and your crew.

When Rodimus sees Megatron, he remembers exactly how he got his shiny new frame. He remembers the hole in his chest and the absolute certainty that he was dead.

Megatron and all the attached memories are going around _his_ ship, the ship _Drift_ gave to him, acting like it’s his, like he has the right to give orders, and it’s…

Rodimus tries to move forward. He tries to rage against the universe. He tries to look life in the eye and laugh at its attempts to bring him down, but sometimes…

Sometimes it’s too much.

He hides in his room.

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.

“Movie night tonight,” someone tells him, a month into Megatron’s co-captaincy, in what Rodimus thinks (hopes) is a well-meaning attempt to get him out.

He nearly starts laughing hysterically when the lights are turned off and a familiar opening scroll appears.

He’ll grin and bear it. He _has to_. He faces the screen and lets his mind drift away into thoughts of better times, allows his processor to go through songs and movies, lets the movie run unwatched in front of him.

“What did you think of it?” somebody asks him after the movie ends, while he’s doing his best to get out and back into his room, where he’s safe, where nothing burns, not even himself.

“It’s not for me,” he says, and returns to his room.

At least Megatron wasn’t there to see that.

.

.

.

.

Rodimus sees his own corpse and is suddenly extremely aware of the fact that he’s alive and that he should live.

So he does.

He deals with Megatron being there every day. He deals with Magnus teaming up with Megatron to judge him. He deals with Ratchet thinking less of him. He deals with Drift’s absence.

He deals with everything, except fucking “Stars Wars”.

He has gotten over everything else. He can allow himself to not deal with one thing.

Right?

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.

Later, he walks around Necroworld, searching for his hologram, and doesn’t dwell on the many flowers at its feet. When he finds out what they mean, he keeps not thinking about it.

There’s nothing to think about, really, only relief. There’s a city’s worth of lives at his feet and he’s thankful for it; it means that when he finally dies, Nyon’s destruction won’t be forgotten.

He burned down a city once because he thought it was the right choice. He did it because the alternative was to condemn everyone to a slow death. Nyon has never stopped burning since then, bright at the back of his mind, falling over and over again in his nightmares.

When he returns to Necroworld, he has to stare death in the eye and stop laughing at the universe. If the universe wants him to burn, _fine_. He’ll burn.

And he does.

He burns fuel, he burns himself, he burns his enemies, and then he’s falling to his knees, tired and in pain, but so, so relieved. He burned and it didn’t end in his destruction or that of his friends. He burned and it _helped_ , and now he has to keep helping. He calls for Drift – who has finally returned, who for some reason has decided to forgive him – and survives. It’s what he does.

Rodimus lives and burns and, just like every fire that has ever been lit, he accepts that there isn’t one single purpose for him.

Fire is warmth.

Fire is destruction.

Fire is Nyon.

Fire is also Rodimus, alive, ready to burn his enemies, ready to burn out if that’s what it takes to keep everyone safe.

.

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“Can you spontaneously combust?” Velocity asks him after the fight, as she helps him with some minor wounds. “Should I have a fire extinguisher at hand?”

It’s… such a curious question. It’s an appropriate question, actually – Magnus had asked it once, worried about Rodimus being a fire hazard.

“No, it’s voluntary.”

“Oh! Good!” She smiles and keeps patching him up.

He considers her question, and suddenly he wants to laugh. If he burst into flames, he wouldn’t be on fire forever; eventually he’d run out of fuel, or someone would grab a fire extinguisher. Nothing burns forever, not even stars, so how could Rodimus be so proud as to believe that he’d be an exception?

.

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Rodimus has raged and chased and burned. Fire is a weapon, and fire is protection. As the captain of the Lost Light, his duty is to his crew, which, unfortunately, includes Getaway, so when that asshole runs into the fire, Rodimus follows, and allows everything that doesn’t deserve a place within him – rage, insecurities, worries – to turn into smoke.

He has grown tired of seeing things burn. It’s time to put out the fire and let something grow from the ashes.

.

.

.

.

Every quest ends. It’s unavoidable. He knew it would happen the moment he decided to go looking for the Knights, but…

It’s just that he thought he’d have a myth to share once he came back. That he’d be a legend, that his crew would live on forever in Cybertron’s memory, that all of them would be happy.

The thing is, nothing lasts forever. Soon, the tales of their quest become irrelevant, everyone makes a life for themselves, and Rodimus is back at the beginning, but instead of starving in the streets, he’s wasting away between the stars, running errands for Thunderclash and hoping there’s another version of himself out there that’s happy.

And then Ratchet is dead.

Rodimus stands in front of Ratchet’s hologram and says his farewell. He takes Drift’s hand and almost begs him to stay in touch. He flies away and watches Cybertron become a dot in the infinity of space.

Nothing burns forever, and Rodimus would like to know when he turned into a pile of ashes.

“Tell me a story,” he says to the lunabot piloting the ship, shattering the silence and startling the other mech.

“Excuse me?” the lunabot – come on, Rodimus, he has a name, you _know_ his name – says, looking back at him with raised eyebrows and confusion in his field.

“I need a distraction. Tell me a story.”

The lunabot – his name! What’s his name? – blinks and looks to the front again.

“I think we have some movies…”

“I saw them on the way here...” Dagno! That’s his name! “Dagno. And I like stories better.” Not really true, but he needs to hear someone that isn’t his own voice in his head, moping.

There’s a pause before Dagno begins, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away-”

“ _Seriously_?” Rodimus says, his voice rising slightly and getting high-pitched.

“What is it?” Dagno says, turning again to show his confusion.

“That’s from ‘Star Wars’! That’s the story you’ll be telling me?”

Dagno smiles sheepishly. “We saw them the other day. I found them charming.”

“They’re _ancient_. Didn’t you have anything better?”

“Captain Thunderclash recommended them.”

Yes. Of course.

Rodimus sighs. It’s not Thunderclash’s fault that the universe had smiled at him. It’s not his fault that Rodimus ended up in his crew. It’s not his fault that he has his life together. Rodimus wishes it was his fault, so he wouldn’t feel like an idiot whenever he gets mad about it.

“So you liked them,” Rodimus says. “Who’s your favorite?”

“Leia,” Dagno says immediately, and smiles. “She’s truly admirable.”

“Yeah… She was pretty awesome,” Rodimus says quietly. He can’t help but smile as well, remembering the first time he saw the movie, all those years ago. He remembers how much he’d liked her. He remembers Alderaan.

He thinks about Nyon, still burning in his mind.

“Okay, fine. Tell me the story of ‘Stars Wars’. I haven’t seen it since my Crusadercons days.”

Dagno tells him the whole movie, not sparing any details and even adding some of his own, his imagination turning every moment into a richer experience than watching the movie had been. He describes the sand and the dry air of Luke’s planet so vividly that even though Rodimus will never experience something like that in the way a human would, he swears he can feel his lips crack and his plating burn under the sun.

If Rodimus was smart, he’d ask Dagno to stop before he got to Alderaan, but… There’s passion in the way he talks, genuine enjoyment and wonder, and it reminds Rodimus of the first time he saw the Lost Light.

He lets him talk, hears him describe Alderaan’s last moments, the people’s dying screams and last thoughts, and all Rodimus can do is look forward, keep his eyes on the infinity in front of them, grit his teeth and curl his hands into fists, because he knows what happens next, he knows the heroes win, he knows Leia will stand tall and proud, even when everything seems lost. If Leia could keep going, Rodimus can deal with “Star Wars”.

He listens to Dagno speak and forces himself to dig through the pile of ashes he became, searching for an ember.

“You know, I never saw any of the movies past Episode IV,” Rodimus says lightly when Dagno finishes the story.

Dagno turns so quickly that Rodimus wouldn’t be surprised to hear he hurt his neck.

“But I thought you said-”

“I saw Episode IV on my Crusadercons days, and never saw the rest.”

“Oh my,” Dagno says almost pityingly, shaking his head. “Why, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I thought they weren’t for me.” Rodimus shrugs. “I figure it’s time to fix that. Are you up for a marathon when we get back to the _Exitus_? We can invite everyone. Even Thunderclash!”

Dagno’s smile starts small and shy, then widens until it lights up his whole face.

Rodimus was born as fire and built himself from the fire of Nyon.

It’s about time he remembers how to burn again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos make me smile and comments make my day.
> 
> If you feel like promoting this fic, would you reblog [this post](https://veto-power-over-fanworks.tumblr.com/post/186362563735/alderaan-is-burning)? Thanks!


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